Playing Normal
by Lord Onisyr
Summary: In 1976 a seemingly ordinary couple ends up in the clutches of monsters. It is a story of two new lovers learning each other's deadly secrets; an average guy with a bloody past and Grell Sutcliff in the reaper equivalent of a midlife crisis.
1. The main story

**Playing Normal**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.

Author's Note: This is based on my headcanon of Grell in the 1970s. It is an AU concept and not based at all in canon, so I will not defend anything in canon. This is my own idea alone. If you like it, great: if not, there's the back button.

This story does include some dialogue with problematic phrasings and elements of homophobia and transphobia. This is done only to illustrate character perspectives and does not reflect the opinions of the author.

**Part 1: The main story**

It is November of 1976, a little past midnight. Two lovers were along the edges of Piccadilly Circus on another lovely night on the town. Just a few hours ago they were sitting in the plush velvet seats of a West End playhouse watching a stellar production of "Jesus Christ Superstar."

In the dark of the theater they were discreetly holding hands, now they walk a few feet from each other as they cross the street and dodge a few speeding cars. Alas, society would not react well to these two showing affections; both these lovers are men. Society has moved forward, such love is no longer illegal. Alas it is still a simple time where these two have to hide their love from the rest of the world.

Now they just look like two blokes in their smart jackets keeping out the fall wind. Talk turns to dinner; shall we have Indian or try out that new sushi place? Amidst the chitchat a few words sneak out of what they want to do to each other in bed later.

Their path changes to a less populated area, one of those dimly lit spaces everyone's mother tells them are pits of danger. They're not worried; the taller, burly man with the balding brown hair is in fact a Metro Police inspector. His companion is a much smaller man with shaggy ginger hair, a neat mustache, and thick-framed specs. He looks a little less hearty but he can certainly take care of himself too.

They continued chatting amidst the quiet of this side street, a shortcut to the car park where the bigger man's chariot (or more specifically his blue Ford Granada) awaits. All is peaceful, everything feels normal, but this evening is about to take a tragic turn.

Near the end of the street the surroundings grew a bit darker. A few streetlights out? That was the easy explanation though something felt a little more off. That was when the figures came out of the shadows: one iron-tough body slamming into the cop, hands ensnaring the slight ginger.

Taunts and sneers went all around. Hooligans, they thought: a bunch of rowdies going after some cash. Or more likely a group of bounders who knew full well the nature of the lovers' relationship and wanted to voice their opinion of such a union with their fists and a cricket bat.

Your average hooligan, however, does not have razor sharp fangs. Your average hooligan does not blur from vision as he moves. The ginger looked up and was now facing two sets of exposed fangs. He whimpered, then looked to his dashing lover. His brave companion has his arms pinned behind his back and is shouting. Any other story would end with the monsters being slain, the cop emerging the hero and saving his damsel in distress.

This isn't one of those stories…well, in a way it is but a bit different. This whole story is a mess, though it is a tragically entertaining mess.

I believe the best way to describe this is one way: a cautionary tale. It's a story of you never really know someone.

Overall this is a cautionary tale of what happens when humans and those creatures of other natures get into bed with each other, literally and figuratively. And this is what happens when a couple men of a certain age go through an identity crisis.

When you're in a state of questioning everything, reexamining your very nature and the very course of the universe, you do some things out of the ordinary. Sometimes it's a simple change of fashion or lifestyle. It can open up your perspective to possibilities you never thought on before. Or it can lead to getting involved with a creature of a species other than your own. Sometimes this can be rewarding, other times can have disastrous results.

This is a story about how both came to pass. This is a story I know quite well and one for which I will try to play the impartial narrator at least for a little while.

Before we learn the fate of our heroes, let's get to know them a little.

Mike and Nick had been indeed been a normal couple in a time when they could have some semblance of normality. They could court in certain circles; they could consummate their affections without fear of prosecution. The rest of society still frowned on them but neither of them cared.

They met in a club six months back: one of the quieter ones. The boys who flirted around here dressed nicely and the music was a bit less loud. Nick was sitting down having a pint; Mike approached him half soused with this goofy smirk.

"You there," Mike said. "Tell me, who was the monarch when you were born?"

Nick cocked an amused eyebrow at the handsome plunker.

"George," Nick replied, raising his glass in reverence.

Mike raised his glass high with a hand to his heart.

"God bless him," he replied.

He then sat right down at the table next to the stranger.

"Ya know I've been meeting so many kids in these places, I'm looking for someone a bit more mature," Mike continued.

Nick put a hand to his chest of mock offense.

"Oh dear me you're not calling me old are you?" Nick sputtered, his tone giving so much away about him.

"I'm calling you an adult," Mike continued. "Bout bloody time I met one round here."

"Well pardon me for a clichéd phrase but I can't help myself: come here often?"

Mike guffawed, splashing around the beer in his glass.

"Yeah a bit," he replied. "I'm…well…"

He paused looking for the right words, fidgeting nervously. Nick leaned in, wanting to hear him say it. Mike leaned in like he was telling a deep secret.

"I'm not used to this whole scene," he finally said.

Nick gave a shrill giggle.

"You haven't been out for long have you?" he replied.

Mike looked around nervously.

"Bloody hell, man, you're surrounded by prancing fairies and you're afraid to admit you're a queer too?" Nick chided.

Mike looked down at his glass, his cheeks turning bright red.

"That shade of red suits you, darling," Nick said, one finger stroking Mike's cheek.

Mike remained a bit stiff, but he relaxed right away.

Nick bought him another pint. They chatted and finally got names out of each other. The closet case was Mike; the flaming ginger called himself Nick. They talked they got tipsy, they playfully ran hands through hair and fingers over arms. They promised to meet some other place the next night. Both would go to their respective homes with grins and a few light steps.

They met the next night and shot billiards. The night after Nick invited him to see a gig by a surprisingly loud group of kids he highly recommended. Nick mentioned having a few hands in the music scene. Allegedly knew his way around a studio and namedropped a few famous friends. Mike seemed impressed, not everyday one meets someone who has tea with Bowie and calls up John and Yoko whenever he visits New York. Mike never called bollocks on it; perhaps he was just being polite.

Within a week they were in the men's room of another establishment; Nick's hands gripping the top edge of the metal stall, his spectacles scraping the wall where his breaths fogged up the shiny surface with every agile move Mike made. Mike would stop for a moment if he heard the door open, Nick's position would hide his eye roll but patience was in order for a green one. Nick didn't care if anyone heard his screaming but he had to calm Mike later.

"Darling what did I say about being surrounded by fairies?" Nick said between drags on a cigarette outside later. "You're just lucky we didn't have a whole chorus going in there."

Eventually Mike did calm down a bit more, this whole thing became a bit more common. After a few more weeks of regular meetings an a few other dalliances in men's rooms, closets, and side lounges they were indeed a couple.

They seemed so different on appearances; this man's man talking football and tools beside this flamer picking apart people's outfits and greeting friends with kisses on the cheek. Nick liked his scotch and his shots of vodka. Nick preferred the lighter fare. Yes he had lager but he was more of a wine guy, occasionally getting a fruity thing with an umbrella.

Deep down they had a bit more in common. Both of them were headstrong as hell, both rather loud and social in their own ways. Neither were ashamed of calling someone out or getting two steps away from trading blows with someone who got in their way.

It took a while but finally they learned more about each other.

Nick learned Mike was a policeman, an inspector in the Metros to be exact. For some reason Nick grinned wide and giggled like mad.

"Yeah I know, I'm a cop doing illegal things like public sodomy," Mike said.

He elaborated a bit: he's a member of the Flying Squad, going against robberies though he has some special expertise in organized crime. He's high enough to have his own cubicle in New Scotland Yard, a fact that made Nick giggle a little harder to Mike's bemusement.

Of course Mike emphasized it's far from glamorous and hardly what they show on "The Sweeney." He's a grunt in a department that is crawling with corruption. Of course he's one of those honest angels who doesn't take kickbacks to mess with evidence or look the other way. So nice to have a knight in shining armor.

Mike didn't ask too many questions himself, until Nick mentioned having to be home earlier because he had an early shift at his day job.

"Office? I thought you were a full time jetsetter?" Mike asked.

"Oh no no, I'm an office prat myself," Nick replied.

"So what is it you do, if you don't mind me asking?" Mike said.

"Oh I don't mind. I have to say you are rather considerate."

"Every man has his own business I don't make it a habit of sticking my nose into someone else's."

"How gracious of you."

There was a slight pause, slight enough to be noticeable.

"I'm an accountant," Nick replied. "A private but a pretty big firm. I do a lot of field work, it's actually rather fun."

"A fun accounting job?"

Nick snickered a little.

"I meet a lot of interesting people in a lot of different positions in life. I so love meeting people."

Mike seemed satisfied with that and didn't ask any other questions. That was until they met up with a few of Nick's rocker friends in a lounge. When they got back to the street Mike did ask one follow-up question.

"I could have sworn I heard one of your friends, I think it was Johnny, anyway I swore I heard him call you something," Mike said. "What did he call you? Grall or something?"

Nick stopped in his tracks and laughed nervously. Mike laughed along, probably waiting to hear an amusing story. Nick paused for a moment in contemplation, then sighed hard.

"He called me Grell," Nick replied.

"Grell? What's the significance of that?" Mike asked.

"Well, it's actually my real name."

Mike's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, but he chuckled.

"So we're at the level of finally knowing your real name," Mike tensely snickered. "I feel special. So Nick Sutcliff is actually…"

"Grell Sutcliff, yes, but I do refer to go by Nick. I have since I was a kid actually. Look, my family history's a long story, but let's just say I got saddled with an odd German name; me an English kid who went to a school that had just been rebuilt after the Blitz."

"Christ," Mike winced. "Say no more, mate."

"Yeah, you get called a 'filthy Kraut' enough in your primary grades so when you get to change schools you make another little change. Nick is a part of my middle name, it was a natural change."

Mike nodded in understanding.

"So do you prefer I call you Nick?" Mike asked.

"Please, I'd nearly forgotten that other one," the confirmed Nick replied.

From that point on the name Grell was essentially forgotten and Nick continued to be Nick.

They started meeting at Mike's tiny flat. It was tidy but not well dusted, naturally there were football banners all over the walls with the occasional tourist photo of London, though it was the personal photos that intrigued Nick more.

It took some prodding and some liquor one night but Mike finally let it all out.

Mike came from a working class family in Surrey. He did the usual things a common boy does; go to school, play sports, hang with his chums. In secondary school he met his sweetheart Ariana. He spoke of her matter-of-factly, like just part of his autobiography.

Right after graduating he enlisted in the Royal Army to give himself some job prospects. Mike did dig out a photo album showing his brawny self in a smart uniform or camo, others hanging out with some of his buddies. He served for five years; then came home, married his sweetheart, and found a job as a police officer.

"I swear, Nick, I had the perfect life," he said wistfully. "Just a few years ago I was in my early thirties and I got a wife, two kids, I'm a brave officer of the law, the community loves me. I shoulda been happy, but no I really wasn't.

Then he met Paul at a pub. Mike was even more relaxed when he started this story; a little less guarded though perhaps a little angrier.

Paul was an investment banker, but he was just a regular chum. They became best mates in one sense, then it got complicated. It started with meetings at the pub then it became meetings at Paul's flat.

"It was kind of like how we are," Mike said.

Over time they were sitting closer on the couch, then Paul held his hand. Of course there were the usual denials "I am not a poofter" and all that but the excuses ended in Paul's four-poster bed.

Mike stopped denying what was going on; in fact he embraced it. He would play the devoted husband during the day, at night he was exploring all of Paul's parts and realizing what he had always been missing. This went on for a year and Mike was growing more and more sure that the domestic life was not for him.

"I was a gay man," Mike declared, raising his glass. "Everything just made sense. Paul just opened up my world, he opened my eyes, he made me feel things I never thought."

Mike would calmly confess to his wife he was having an affair and he no longer had the same feelings. Of course he didn't say with whom he was cheating.

"Christ if I woulda told her that that would have been it for me; my job would be gone, my kids would be gone, everything would have been bollocksed."

"So she never found out about you and dearest Paul" Nick asked.

Mike shook his head. No, she didn't; but that didn't prevent her from raking him over the coals in court.

"She took everything, she got the house, she got the kids, our accounts, I'm paying her out the arse every month. Now my credit is shit, I barely got this place. My coworkers went and vouched for me."

"What about your kids?"

Mike grimaced and shook his head.

"I have visitation, but I rarely hear from them now," he said. "They were old enough to hear all the shit she was saying about me. They think I'm a cheating bastard; I betrayed mummy with a whore. After a while I stopped bothering and none of them have been asking."

Nick pulled Mike a little closer, some sort of sympathy.

"I was happy with Paul, that was the salve. Now things could be just as they were meant to be, I could be the man I was."

That was until Paul went on a business trip to Asia, then he was never heard from. Calls were not returned, letters were sent back unanswered.

"Then one day I'm watching the news and whose face is plastered all over it," Mike continued. "Who's being dragged through Heathrow in handcuffs? Dear, dear Paul."

Nick's jaw dropped.

"Oh dear me what happened?" he gasped.

"Offshore money laundering," Mike replied, pouring himself another glass. "Had a pretty good operation going. The crown found out, found out about his teenage harem boys in Thailand too."

"Oh my God," Nick sighed, patting Mike's arm. "What a louse."

Mike just nodded.

"It was all over the papers, I had to read about him every fucking day. Thank the Lord they never found out about me; his other office boyfriends were a bit noticeable as they sold him out. He went to jail; I got to stay where I was unscathed. Well my name was unscathed anyway."

"But not your heart. Here you are fresh out in the open, sacrificing everything for an ungrateful love. I am so sorry, my dear."

Mike just knocked back another beer and shrugged.

"I'm living," he replied though Nick just saw more.

He changed the subject from there; the tough guy just couldn't be seen crying. There was a little more chatter, eventually some snogging, and a nice lay on Mike's creaky bed.

Nick would understand much more when Mike talked about murderously long shifts or nights in a tiny flat watching football on the telly and getting soused. He would hear how Mike would venture into a few gay bars; all he found were college kids in tight pants sipping colorful drinks.

Mike told Nick all about it at a restaurant; he told him how he found a bunch of young prats with no shirts on and leather pants or creepy men with handlebar mustaches and leather vests. Nick was keeping his gaze on his drink this whole time Mike was describing this. Mike didn't notice the way his jaw was clenching with every description about "fun boys" and "after my arse."

"Then you get the drag queens, like I want to see a bunch of men pretend to be women," he said.

He snickered between sips, then the pointed toe of an Italian shoe connected square with his kneecap. Mike yelped and looked to see the pointed glare of his companion. Nick sipped his beer, then cleared a few suds from his mustache with a few dainty blots of a napkin.

"Please don't be rude," Nick said calmly though with enough of an edge that Mike stared at him for a few seconds with a concerned look.

"Sorry," he said. "Look I'm an old fashioned guy, like I told you this whole thing is new to me. I'm an alien here, and I guess what I need is a good guide."

"No you're a compatriot who doesn't yet understand all the nuances, and you can start by not being a tit. You sound no better than the twats you're hiding from."

Nick expected a lot more petty excuses; instead Mike bowed his head

"I really am sorry, old rubbish impressions are hard to overcome," he replied. "I am a tit, but I want to learn how not to be one."

Nick looked at him and lightly squeezed his hand with a hallways smile.

"I'll help you as long as you work at it," Nick replied.

And Mike did. He caught himself if he spoke disparagingly of culture about which he had no knowledge. Nick introduced him to some of these party boys, invited him to private teas with artists. He even brought him to parties with interesting mixes of all sorts.

Nick would introduce Mike to some beautiful ladies with surprisingly deep voices. Occasionally they talked of estrogen injections and how nice it felt to get called "Ma'am" at the store. Nick watched as Mike went from shifting uncomfortably and stayed meters away from these ladies to singing and embracing them by the end of the night.

During all this "training," Mike asked him the question on the couch.

"When did you…you know…know?" Mike asked.

Nick snickered at the question; he knew exactly what this was about. He paused for a moment in contemplation.

"I was sixteen, I just entered that lovely new school," he started with a little smirk. "I had so many friends; friends with perfect muscles and lovely hair. I sometimes sat in their laps and touched their hair, playfully I thought but it was so much more. Then I would dream of them at night, they were all naked and doing ghastly things to me. I woke up and had to change my knickers. I guess I knew instantly."

"Really? You just accepted it?" Mike asked almost incredulously.

"I did indeed, shockingly enough. Now this was a much different time, that sort of thing was just not talked about. It was a hellworthy sin, it was against everything decent, but that's what I was. It felt exciting to be a sinner."

Mike was doubling over in laughter.

Nick opened up a bit more after this. He had been a bit guarded, but Mike never asked a man his business.

Nick mentioned his friend Ron, a former coworker who has been working in Berlin for a long time. Ronnie, as he called him, might be coming back to London.

"Oh you'd love him, he's a man's man like you," Nick said. "He's straight as straight can be, but he's certainly accepting."

Nick also started telling Mike stories about his ex William, speaking so wistfully at times.

"I truly loved him once," Nick said with a heavy sigh. "I wanted nothing more for us to belong to each other. But I was a romantic fool then; all I wanted was that perfect soulmate."

William is still his co-worker, "but there's no need to be jealous. We're just friends, I swear. It took a while to finally get to that."

William was apparently a complete uptight corporate type who could be scary when crossed. Mike was a little surprised with the way Nick giggled at this. Will apparently did have his redeeming qualities.

They were but young ones when they entered the company together, Nick said. They had a brief affair, then they separated, then they kept a toxic friendship, then Nick admitted he "fucked up some things really awful" and made it worse. But then there was a twist of fate; one Nick was really not comfortable talking about. What mattered was William softened up a little and they finally connected again.

Will was also highly insecure about his sexual leanings.

"So how many closet cases have you taken under your wing?" Mike asked.

"I stopped counting," Nick snickered. "I consider what I do a public service. William was a bit more special though. I saw a man from another strict upbringing who thought such desires were shameful. He shoved his feelings down too low; he choked all his emotions away. Alas he learned the hard way you have to let it out, but that's not a story for now. I just knew I was obsessed with him, I knew he wanted me and I was going to do everything to make him realize that."

"Did it work?"

"Well yes and no. We started treating each other with a lot more respect; he stopped seeing me as a walking insult, I stopped seeing him as a piece of meat. We met halfway, understood each other, then we could date like adults."

Apparently it didn't work out that well, both of them had their respective crosses to bear. They were still friends and co-workers; he even set Will up with a few other guys.

"Does Will know about me?" Mike asked with a little smirk.

"No, I don't think he's ready for that yet," Nick replied.

Mike would occasionally joke about how he really wanted to meet this lovely accountant. There may have been a few "show him what he's missing" comments that Nick laughed off.

Then the day came when their paths actually crossed. It was a brief moment, they were in a park when Nick happened to see a familiar face approaching. The way he grinned and waved a little made Mike shift uncomfortably. Nick introduced the passer-by as William; they shook hands politely but gave each other unsettled looks. William was a tall, well-built fellow in khakis and a black polo shirt, black hair in a mod cut with neat yet prominent sideburns.

He pulled Nick aside for some "business talk" Mike couldn't hear, though some sideways glances in his direction were a bit telling. Nick would return to Mike, William left with a stiff "Pleasure to meet you, Inspector Frawley," before walking away.

"Sorry, he seems like a wanker," Mike said later.

Nick chortled in response.

"Well yes he is," Nick replied with a nod. "He's actually relaxed a lot. You should have seen what he was like before; you'd be lucky to get a hello out of him."

Mike brought up another issue on the couch one night.

"If you're still shagging him, you know you're darling Will there, or if you want to still shag him I wouldn't be offended."

Nick looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"Now where is this coming from?" Nick asked.

"I don't know, its just I noticed how you were around him," Mike responded. "You just lit up the second you saw him. I know you're a sociable chap, but maybe I just saw something. Look I'm not a jealous guy, I'd rather share you than lose you I guess."

Nick smiled brightly at this and put his arm around Mike. There were ample reassurances that whatever he had with William was done.

"I do get affectionate with him, old habits die hard, but that's all it is," Nick said. "I'll admit something to you; I kind of like not hopping around. I've had a very eventful life, you have too. For once I suppose I'm enjoying some comfort, the kind of comfort I guess I need."

His words trailed off and a sad look came across his face. Mike just looked at him, but Nick got back his usual cheer. The door had just opened a creak on something but Nick was keeping his mouth shut and Mike didn't want to pry.

Then the door opened another night as they lay in Mike's bed, talk turned to the latest alimony check and went a little further.

"You're told from the time you're a kid the plan is always find a wife, have kids. That's always the way it is," Mike went on. "The bride and the groom, mummy and daddy, that's how life works. God help you if you can't do that."

Nick nodded with enthusiasm, then he decided to go a little further.

"I never wanted that when I was a kid, I wanted to just sleep around, get drunk, rinse, repeat," he said, putting his hands behind his head and settling into the pillow. "Then there was a time in my life I did want that perfect family; I wanted the husband and the kids. In truth, Mike, I thought for a while I should have been a wife and a mother."

Mike gazed at him, brow furrowed a little and mouth drooping open a little. Nick looked at him and nodded.

"You mean you thought you were like Linda and Tricia and those other girls, you thought you wanted to be a…"

Nick's little look corrected him.

"I mean you thought you were a…just in the wrong body," Mike reversed.

"Yes actually," Nick sighed. "I had always played with the thought, even as strapping young buck I wore dresses. It was like playing pretend at first, only it was so natural to me. I wanted to be beautiful; I hated being the proper boy. As I got to a certain age, my reckless youth gone, I felt I was missing something. I wanted to know what it was like to carry a baby, to give birth, to be a proud mother. I wanted a husband, a lovely house, a horde of kids. I thought for so long maybe God made a mistake with me."

"What changed that?"

"I think time did, experience," Nick replied with a hard sigh. "Things happened in my life that put my focus on the now and not the what should be. I had to take better care of myself and those around me. Then a lot changed; society changed. Women are going to work now, I know a few fairies like us who are raising kids, though medicine adapted so girls could find their true bodies."

Nick sighed wistfully and lay back a bit.

"I watched as Linda went through her evolution," he continued. "She used to be this skinny little kid, I first saw a boy scared of his own shadow. Then she blossomed into such a beautiful woman. I envied her, I asked so many questions, I thought this was finally my chance to reverse this mistake. Then I started wondering if there was any mistake, how much did I really want that? Did I really want to go through all that or was I fine how I was? Maybe it was a dramatic realization, maybe I just chickened out; still something turned around. That's when I stopped wearing dresses, I put on suits, cut all my hair off, and my hair was really long too. Then grew this lovely thing."

He rubbed his mustache with his index finger.

"I figured why not try being a boy for a change, see how much I like it," he continued.

"And how are you liking it?" Mike asked.

"Just fine for now," Nick replied. "I've been comfortable with it, it's been interesting exploring this side of myself."

"Do you ever think you might change your mind?"

Nick shrugged.

"It's quite possible, but I can't predict ahead. Perhaps I'll come to loathe what I'm doing with myself now or maybe keep at it. Maybe I'll change everything, maybe I won't. Perhaps it's all a big process of figuring myself out."

Mike nodded with a smirk: that made too much sense. Nick turned over on his side and faced his lover.

"If I decided to go that other way, would you still love me?" he asked. "If I shaved this off, grew my hair out, wore dresses and makeup. If I took hormones and got a lovely set of breasts, if I had my outer bits turned into inner bits would you still want to be with me?"

Mike looked at him thoughtfully and ran a hand through his red hair.

"I would," he replied. "You'd still be you."

Nick smiled, leaned, over, and kissed him. It was a good answer, Nick didn't know how sincere it was but it was a start.

The door creaked open a bit more. They were having dinner at Mike's flat one night, Mike accidentally opened a bottle of scotch instead of wine. He realized his mistake before glasses were poured.

"Sorry about that, I know you can't stand the stuff," Mike snickered.

Over dinner Nick told him there was a reason.

"To be honest I do like the stuff, but too much," he said.

"Oh so the truth comes out," Mike snickered. "You refraining?"

"You could say that, though I've heard the term 'recovering' a bit more," Nick replied.

Mike's smile relaxed.

"You have a problem?" he asked.

"One I've put behind me," Nick said.

"But you still drink."

"Only the light stuff and even then I have to make sure it's only a little. It's complicated."

Mike nodded. It was clear he had been allowed in a little more; a position he made sure to respect.

A month later Mike managed to get a much nicer flat in Southwark. He got a bonus and his credit rating boosted up a little, as he told Nick. Nick didn't bother questioning it. He helped him move in, he even helped with some of the maintenance. Mike initially cocked an eyebrow at the offer help build some new shelving, but he was curious if he actually did something.

He wasn't surprised but scared to hear a yelp behind the whirr of the jigsaw. He rushed across the house and sprinted into the kitchen, suddenly seeing a splash of blood and getting ready to run to the phone. Nick just stood with his fingers wrapped in a handkerchief, but still flexing them.

"No I don't need a bloody hospital," Nick sputtered, unwrapping the handkerchief from around his knuckles. "Look at that, just a scratch."

Sure enough the skin was nicked but it wasn't too deep.

"You're a lucky plunker, we should be picking your fingers off the floor," Mike replied.

Nick got right back to work. In the end Mike had a gorgeous set of cabinets, better than the ones it came with.

"Bloody hell, you a carpenter or something?" Mike gasped.

"I'm just handy," Nick replied with a grin. "I know my way around more tools than one."

This spacious flat was becoming more a place for two than one. There were no formal invitations or declarations, Nick just started staying over more regularly and Mike wasn't complaining. Both of their schedules were daft; lots of late nights and early mornings. Many nights Nick stayed at his own place closer to work, though he was dropping by Mike's place more and more. One afternoon Mike gave him a key and told him he was free to come to his house whenever.

"Gracious, Michael," Nick answered, looking at the key. "This is a rather large show of trust. I'm tickled."

"Well I do trust you," Mike replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Just don't hold any wild parties or deal dope out of the place."

"Yes dad."

Regardless of how formal or informal their living situation was, it was starting to resemble domesticity. One would make breakfast; another would make dinner. Nick would tidy up from time to time; Mike was such a typical man. Nick made the occasional comment of "This place needs a woman's touch," maybe just to watch Mike's reaction. Mike would snicker a little, though Nick swore he saw a little nervous neck rubbing.

They had reached a point where everything was comfortable. They were doing less pub hopping and spending more quiet nights in or pleasant nights out. This could have continued for so much longer, this life of domestic normality. Alas that would not be the case.

The last moment they would have as cozy partners was that one fateful night. They were supposed to have dinner, then go back to Mike's place, have a few glasses of wine, and shag each other's brains out. They talked about all the things they would do to each other as they idly passed through a back way. They were chatting so much they didn't pay attention to their surroundings. They didn't notice the figures all around them until they were grabbed and pinned.

Now we are back at the scene from our opening act. Two fanged creatures are now clutching Mike; their sheer strength renders a hearty man like Michael frozen and shaking. Two more have a hold on Nick, he can feel their breath against his neck.

The ringleader standing off to the side. He looks like a typical punk with spiky blue hair and a big safety pun through his nose.

Now back to the part where the burly hero should be fighting back heroically. Instead…

"Jesus Christ, Danny, what the fuck are you doing!" he yells

Now here comes the twist.

"Sorry copper, the old man ain't gonna be keepin' you safe," Danny spits in Mike's face. "He's gonna die and there's nothin' you can do to stop it."

Mike looked at Nick, seeing the tears well up in his eyes and watches him tremble. His look is enraged, but there is a hint of apology.

"Consider this a declaration of independence, dog," says one of the others clutching Nick, a hood with long, greasy brown hair. "You're nothin' but meat now. We're gonna drain you dry, not before we get a taste of your little poof."

His tongue slides across Nick's neck, making him whimper. Mike bucked jerked forward but the hands kept him in place.

"You're an idiot, you all are," Mike snarled. "You're gonna go toe to toe with Ferdinand? You're gonna get ripped up and beg for death."

Ferdinand? Now who's Ferdinand?

"Sorry, Mikey, too bad for Ferdy we got you and your precious boy first," Danny sneers.

Nick is now sobbing hard.

"Mike, Mike what the hell are these!" he pleads.

Mike just looks at him, lip trembling and eyes red. He mouths, "I'm sorry."

Nick stares at him in horror.

"Oh God you know these things?" Nick shouts.

This earns him a smack across the head from one of the creatures, he yelps in response.

"Nick, oh God Nick I am so sorry," Mike whimpers, tears streaming down his face. "I never…I never wanted you to get caught up in this."

Nick's eyes lock on his Judas lover, their eyes meet and both know this is the end of everything. Everything he knows about Mike is a lie. Their happy, cozy life was just a happy tale behind a gruesome truth.

"Let him go, kill me! He doesn't deserve this," Mike shouts. "I'm Ferdinand's lapdog, you said it yourself. Just fucking kill me and let him go!"

The pleas fall on deaf ears, the creatures lean in closer. Both sets of fangs sink into Nick's neck; Nick gives a bloodcurdling shriek, Mike screams. The creatures greedily drink down Nick's warm, red life essence. Nick screams louder, Mike is now sobbing, the creatures cackle and taunt.

The two sets of fangs in Nick's neck suddenly unclench; the happy slurping is now watery choking. Nick's screams reach a crescendo and morph into shrill cackles. The things stumble back, puking up green foam, and collapse to the ground; their bodies locked in spasms.

Nick opens his eyes to take a glance at those around him. Mike's mouth has dropped open, Danny is now staring at him in angry confusion.

Nick makes eye contact with him and grins. Danny's mouth gapes open and his eyes are wide. He flaps his lips but Nick knows exactly what word will be coming out. At last he screams it:

"REAPER!"

A cry of warning that is already too late.

The fangers surrounding Nick get less than a second before their torsos explode with viscera and blood. Then their bodies burst into flames; all that is left is ash. Their remains fall beside the two other piles of ash laying on the ground

Mike's captors have one second to drop him and run. They make it a yard before their heads and limbs fly off, one more swipe hits through their waists and the air explodes in fireworks of blood, organs, and fiery ashes. It is a beautiful symphony of death to the orchestra of a roaring engine and a whining blade.

Danny manages to get away; in a second he is a blur several blocks down. He isn't lost through, his pursuer has his position locked. There is a bigger matter to deal with: a matter than is now cowering on his knees.

Michael is staring up at Nick a look of sheer horror. Nick does look a bit frightful right now; clothing soaked in blood, a chainsaw in his hand.

Actually, I suppose now is the best time for the shift in narrative. As of now the fairy tale has ended, this story of two regular chaps has taken a dark turn. From here on it's time to get to the true details. My role as impartial storyteller ends here. I cannot properly relay what happened next in this story without a little further perspective.

The character of Nick in this sordid tale is I.

I was the lover who learned of his sweetie's connection with vampires. But then Michael was the one who learned his own squeeze wasn't human either. The question is who's the bigger prat.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I know a lot in this story has been repeated in my other 70s Reaper fics. I have been having a lot of false starts with the other stories so I decided to just do individual stories for this concept. This means "Age of Death" might not get updated but this is one of what could be several individual stories.


	2. The immediate aftermath

**Playing Normal**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.

Author's Note: This is based on my headcanon of Grell in the 1970s. It is an AU concept and not based at all in canon, so I will not defend anything in canon. This is my own idea alone. If you like it, great: if not, there's the back button.

**Part 2: The immediate aftermath**

Now back to our harrowing tale.

Danny is now a blur several blocks away, though I can sense his every move. He's only moving right now because I want to find out just what the bloody hell is going on. Hopefully he'll run to his handler, or he could be really stupid and getting reinforcements.

Though there is also the little matter of lovely Michael. I looked down at our fearless hero cowering on his knees. His eyes are wide and his jaw is practically on the ground. Well, as I said, I do look a bit frightful right now.

My clothes are now streaked with red and my scythe is in my hand dripping with vampire juices. I dropped the illusion covering my teeth when I let Danny know who he was dealing with. Now Michael is looking at me in my full, deadly glory. Normally I prefer to be a bit more modest with humans, though Michael deserves no modesty right now. He's already fucking with vampires, might as well let him see who he's been giving sloppy seconds.

Oh how I want to smack him across the skull, put out a few teeth, cover him in bruises. Doing that to a human though is rather frowned upon. No Michael is getting his own special beating just by looking at me.

"Vampires, Michael?" I say with a polite hiss. "You have been dallying with vampires?"

I lean down into his face with a stern look; he flinches away from me.

"Just…what…wh-what...oh God, Nick…" brave, tough Michael sputters.

I look up the street and still see the blur. I concentrate and hone my senses; dear Danny is now stumbling to a phone booth. Oh who could he be calling? I shove Mike over onto the ground and leap out of there. I take a few hops forward and leap up on an awning. I was about to leap forward until my peripheral vision catches sight of Michael scrambling to a sit and pulling a leather case out of his pocket.

I stop for a moment and hide, watching him. He opens the case and what do I see but a whole vampire hunter's toy set; a silver revolver with extra silver bullets, a silver cross, little bottle of holy water, and this pretty little silver dagger. I go invisible then leap down from my perch. Danny can wait for a few seconds, I am even more curious about this.

Mike has the lovely new gun in his hand and he's popping open the cylinder with a shaking hand. I can hear his harried breaths; he is looking all around and getting ready for the next attacker. Perhaps that was a bad time for me to reach over his shoulder and snatch up the little dagger. He must have popped the cylinder back sooner than I thought for I hear a loud bang and feel my shoulder jerk back, a searing ache going through my chest.

I stand for a moment and see as my blood soaks through the wound in the top part of my chest. Oh damn I liked this shirt too. Mike screams, he must have realized what happened. I give a few rough coughs, summoning the slug from my lung behind a river of blood. I then look at the silver bullet in my bloody hand; it is fully intact, just as I suspected. I then look down at Mike, Mike is now on the ground shaking violently.

I present the bullet in front of him, then toss it down on the ground. He flinches and squirms to the side as it gently bounces off the pavement and lands in front of him.

"Try not to waste those," I scold, shaking my head.

I pivoted on the sole of my red Oxford and leapt away, the dagger vanished from my hand into my dimensional pocket and I continued on. A few coughs cleared away any excess blood from my lung; I could feel the tissue and bone finish knitting themselves back into place. It was a hearty bullet, most certainly blessed. An undead would be completely dead with a well-placed shot: though a god such as myself was only banged around a little. I wonder if vampire-slaying kits are now standard police issue. Given all I'd heard tonight I doubt that's the case.

I hopped across awnings and the tops of bus stops. I got there right as Danny boy was stumbling into the booth. I slowed my charge and dropped right next to the box all sneaky like, then put an ear to the booth as Danny picked up the receiver and dialed. It took him a few attempts to get the number; his fingers had a hard time finding the right position. Not so cocky now, are we? And this was all thanks to little old me. It's rough being the scary monster when you just messed with something far more terrifying, isn't it Danny?

Finally he got the right number, I could hear the dial tone and see him fidget a bit harder. At last his savior picked up.

"Dan, are we all set?" a proper, yet common-sounding male voice said on the other end.

"No we're far from fucking all set!" Danny barked. "A fucking reaper! Mikey was with a reaper! I'm all that's left now. He…he…fuck! He tore them all to pieces! He had a fucking chainsaw!"

There was a pause on the other end; I then heard a grumble.

"You left Frawley alive then?" the other voice replied.

"Yes, yes Frawley's fucking alive; his boyfriend's a reaper!" Danny screamed into the receiver, getting more and more agitated. "I'm not above saving my arse, Stu, I got away but the fucker could be right on my back."

Well this was my cue. I powered up my scythe, the look of panic that formed on his face was breathtakingly beautiful. I stayed a moment and let that sink in.

"Danny?" the voice said on the other end.

"Oh…fuck…" Danny whimpered.

I plunged the blade through the door; Danny's arm went flying in a spray of blood but the rest of him pressed against the other side of the wall. His screams bounced off the metal walls, joining the whine of my scythe in a lovely chorus of death. I kicked the door open and stood right in the doorway, scythe in hand. He wasn't getting out of here.

This vampire was now a mess, streams of bloody tears running down his face as he sniveled, though his features suddenly steeled to anger. Was this a last attempt at toughness?

"You're fucking dead," he sneered. "D'ya know who you're fucking with?"

"Not really, please do inform me," I replied.

I saw the phone hanging from the cord, hopefully the other party was still listening.

"Maybe your friend can tell me," I said.

I pressed the blade against his neck, he flinched hard and tried to back away but I wasn't taking it off. I took hold of the receiver with my free hand and put it up to my ear.

"Allo? Is this little Danny's friend?" I said.

I heard a little shifting on the other end, oh good our other party is still here.

"And to whom am I speaking?" the voice said on the other end.

"Grell Sutcliff of the London, District 7 office of the Reaper Dispatch Association," I replied like this was any other polite business conversation. "I would ask your name but I doubt you'll give me a real one. All I know is I was enjoying a pleasant evening with my human companion when your friends interrupted that."

I kicked Danny for good measure, then I cradled the receiver on my shoulder and produced that lovely little silver dagger from my stores. One hand held my scythe, steady, the other took out my new toy.

"As you can imagine I am rather perturbed about this development," I continued.

I sliced off the top of Danny's ear right at the last word, he screamed. I was sure his friend got the point.

"Now forgive me for my ignorance, but I heard the name Ferdinand mentioned a few times. I'm going to assume that the subject of that conversation was Lord Ferdinand de Rosales himself, now am I correct?"

There was a little shifting on the other end.

"With all due respect, Mr. Sutcliff, this is isn't any of your business," the voice replied.

"No, sorry friend, the second your boys meddled with my evening it became my business," I replied. "I don't know what kind of beef you have with Don de Rosales and I am sure your grievances are many. Believe me we would love nothing more than to see him go sunbathing, though of course that applies to the lot of you too."

Truthfully this wasn't an assertion I wasn't fond of using, though in present company it was necessary. Show a little tough love when they get out of line; of course when you're peeling the skin of their colleague the point is driven home a lot nicer.

I took a glance out the window to see brave Michael standing right by the broken door, pointing the barrel of his gun to my playmate here. Mike was looking at me with wide eyes, his complexion was an unflattering shade of green. This image made my stomach turn, but was oddly satisfying.

"As for Mr. Frawley, well I do concede that whatever beef you have with him is none of my business either," I spat into the phone, looking right at the man in question.

"Not very kind words from someone you're guarding," the voice said.

"Guarding?" I said, then chuckled and looked right at Michael. "I'm not his bloody bodyguard. He makes his bed he lies in it as far as I'm concerned. As I said I'm only involved because I was inconvenienced."

Michael stood frozen, the revolver shook in his hand.

"You know what, I never even told him what I was," I continued in a hurt tone. "I was going to tell him nicely too, break out the bubbly and have a proper sit down. But that didn't happen. Instead your little bastards decided to bite me. Well I am sure you know what happened to them with that and your little friend here explained what happened to the rest."

I stuck the dagger into Danny's shoulder and twisted, oh his screams were so lovely.

"And now I'm covered in blood and I have a sniveling human with me who I am going to have that conversation with the hard way. I was going to get laid tonight but that's not in the cards now, no thanks to you."

I twisted the knife harder, Danny screamed then tried to reach for it with his remaining hand. A shot went off and Danny's forearm burst in blood and bone slivers. I looked over at Mike, then down at Danny, and just nodded.

"Listen, friend, my office does not appreciate your kind killing humans; if you recall there's been a few renewed treaties on this very matter," I continued. "But you go after us…"

I shook my head and tut-tutted into the phone.

"This is why I am going to finish up dear Danny here and you will have lost five of your soldiers for stupid reasons," I said, smiling at Danny's flinch. "Maybe the next time you plan to eliminate some pawns you'll be a little wiser."

I dropped the receiver and looked down at Danny . I wanted the other party to clearly hear what was going on, though I wasn't interested in anyone in the mundane world hearing this. I quickly ran my forefinger over the walls of the phone booth, enacting a rather simple charm to keep the sounds that were going to be happening inside this space from bleeding to the mundanes. It meant Mike probably wouldn't hear anything; he heard enough already and he was surely going to be getting another earful later.

I don't know if the third party had hung up yet, though I certainly enjoyed all Danny's screams. With the right combination of dagger and scythe to the right places it was like playing a xylophone. I looked outside at one point, Mike was standing a few feet away with his back to my view, the I saw the gun shaking in his hands.

After this I was bored and I knew just a few more slices and Danny would be turning to dust. I dropped the dagger, powered up my scythe, and just finished him off. At last he burst into ash, I stepped out of the booth just in time for the campfire. I heard Mike's shoes slide against the pavement and the click of his gun facing forward.

I waited until the cinders waned a bit, then grabbed the dagger off the floor and walked away. The fire had singed the inside of the phone booth, obscuring all the blood. Danny was just one messy pile of ashes. If anyone was looking from the outside they would simply think someone torched the booth.

I then looked at Michael, he remained facing toward the phone booth for a moment. Then his head slowly turned in my direction. He avoided eye contact with me for a moment, then looked at me. I let the dagger vanish back into my stores.

"Remind me to give that back to you later," I said. "Now I have no interest in sticking around this awful place. We can leave together or separately, whichever you prefer."

He gazed at me, taking a few deep breaths to get his composure back. He then shook his head.

"You've got a lot of bloody explaining to do," he spat, then quickly caught himself. "I've…I've got a lot of bloody explaining to do. Everything…everything is just a mess now."

I just nodded.

"Back to your place then," I said. "Maybe I'll be a nice guy and check for any more party crashers."

The suggestion made him shiver and he rubbed his face. I dismissed my scythe, then I pulled my jacket around myself to cover the blood stains. He stared at me in awe, then holstered his pistol. I did an about face and heard him follow me. Whatever we had to work out, now it was time to play it casual as long as we were in public view.

I walked in the direction of the car park, taking glances back at Mike. We said nothing as we walked through Piccadilly Circus. I was happy to be back among the crowds, though I kept an eye out. On occasion I saw the pale skin and watery eyes of another vampire, though none of them even looked at us. They were just going about their business; we were too.

Finally we reached the car park, Mike got out in front of me the second we got to the right floor and practically ran to his vehicle. I stayed on watch until we reached the Granada, then I took a look in the seats to see if anyone was hiding. Thankfully we were alone. Mike fumbled for his keys, he even dropped them a few times; I could see his hand shaking.

The third time he dropped his keys, I snapped my hand down and caught them when they were barely a few centimeters out of his grasp. I heard him gasp a bit, then I swung the keys in is face and took them in hand, motioning for him to move to the passenger side. Mike wasn't too fond of my driving, and yes I do tend to go a little heavy on the accelerator, but that didn't matter now. He was in no condition to drive and he was hardly arguing with me. Mike moved right to the passenger side, I unlocked the doors, and both of us got right in.

I pulled the car out of the spot, then drove toward the exit. I gave the card to the teenager in the booth, acting as calm as calm could be. I could see Mike leaning back taking deep breaths to calm himself. The kid didn't give a toss, I just paid him, he went back to his copy of _Shoot!_, and I got the hell out of there. At last I made my way through the city. I focused on the road and tried to keep as cool as I could. I was taking a few extra glances in the mirrors to see if we were followed, though with all this traffic it was a bit hard to tell.

I pulled into a few side ways, cut off a few people to the screech of horns. Mike would wince and grab the hanger over the window like he always did. I would just glance at him. Normally I might say a little "Sorry" or "What do you expect, I'm dealing with maniacs" but I had little desire for idle talk. Instead I did think of one thing that would have to be addressed.

"You injured?" I asked. "Do you need a hospital?"

I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

"I should be asking the same of you, you're the one who coughed up a fucking bullet," he breathily replied. "But by now I know better, I have a decent idea what the answer will be."

"That's correct," I replied.

Time for that hard conversation.

"So what the hell are you exactly?" he said. His tone was annoyed, but not frantic or even curious.

I pulled a little hard down another street; I got in front of one bloke a little sooner than he anticipated. There was some brake squealing and some horns honked but I didn't care. Mike wasn't making any reaction either.

"You heard the answer a few times," I replied, maneuvering around another corner.

A silence fell over the both of us.

"I believe the term was 'reaper,'" he sighed. "And what exactly is a reaper?"

"It's self-explanatory, actually," I replied. "Someone dies, we're the ones who account for their souls. I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

I looked at him for a moment, then I saw him nod.

"You're the fucking grim reaper," he said, his voice was shaky but matter-of-fact. It was the tone of a human who calmly made his horrifying conclusion.

"A grim reaper, there's a lot more of us," I corrected, raising an index finger from the wheel.

He rubbed his face and nodded again.

"I've been dating the grim reaper," he said with a shaky snicker. "The grim reaper, a grim reaper, still the same. Jesus Christ,"

"And I've been dating the human lapdog of one of the vampire lords of London," I replied with a raised voice. "It's been a wonderful night of revelations."

I heard him sigh hard.

"You know who Ferdinand is?" he replied weakly.

"Indeed, I knew exactly who he was the moment I heard that name from the mouth of a vampire. We just had a briefing on who is at the top of the undead food chain. We like to know the dynamics behind why multiple people die from massive blood loss."

"Know your enemy and all that."

"Something like that. But don't worry, Mikey, we're not Romeo and Juliet. I'm not going to get killed for who I'm dating, you on the other hand."

"Right, you're just another fucking immortal with a human pet," Mike barked in a hurt tone. "That's all any of you think of mortals; we're just cute toys. Is that what I've been to you all this time? Fuck! I'm tired of this, I'm bloody sick and tired of all of you!"

"Did I try to fucking eat you tonight?" I snapped. "Did I tell you I was going to fucking murder you? No, Michael, did not, never have, not my job. You're so fucking sick of immortals why don't you tell Don Ferdinand to shove your cushy position up his prick hole? Fucking hypocrite!"

I slammed the dashboard, cracking the plastic. Mike jumped and yelped, then immediately tried to calm down.

"All right, fine, let's just shut our mouths until we get to my place," he replied with a breath. "Now is a bad time to hash out everything. You're driving, I need to not have a heart attack."

I didn't say anything. I pulled onto a less busy street that I knew would take us right to Southwark. My eyes were on the road but Mike's heavy sigh reverberated through the air. I could feel his body shaking with that sigh, he exuded tension.

Five minutes later I pulled in front of his building. He pulled himself up a bit more into ready mode as I parked the car.

"I'll go in first, follow my lead," I declared with a hint of a growl. "Exit the car casually, enter with no weapons in hand. Don't draw until we're inside."

"Yeah, sure," he tiredly confirmed.

I got out of the car, he came out behind me. I locked the doors and tossed the keys at him, he nearly dropped them but managed to get hold and slip them in his trouser pocket. I casually went to the building and picked out my own house key from my pocket. The key went on the lock and I slowly opened the door, then took a look inside the foyer. No one was around, I entered the building one side in. My scythe appeared in the hand facing inside the flat.

I edged my way in, hearing Mike enter behind me and closed the door; another click announced that he drew his weapon. I raised the blade, then scraped my nails down the flat end. It was like an undead dog whistle; the sound was like scraping pain to them.

"Anyone about?" I called out. "We really don't want any guests, I'm giving you five minutes to remove yourselves or I'll remove a few other things."

No one stirred, no one advanced. I looked all over, my vision can see through most forms of vampiric obfuscation; any more thugs like Danny and his boys would be plain as day to me. There was absolutely no one.

I went through the flat doing the same piper's call. I looked around every corner, in every closet, and behind every door and large piece of furniture. Mike was doing a similar check too. He was in work mode; it was a bit exciting. After twenty minutes we went through every room and nook and cranny there was. At last we made it back to the living room with a mutual agreement that there was probably no one else here.

He then pointed at my weapon.

"Any significance behind the big chainsaw?" he asked.

"Much," I replied. "What does a reaper carry?"

He paused, brows furrowing, then he nodded.

"That's like a scythe isn't it?" he answered.

"That's exactly what it is. Each of us has our own unique one, all with the same purpose. I'll let you mull that over."

I dismissed my scythe, Mike watched it disappear into thin air with stunned awe. I then took off my coat and dropped it on the floor, then heaved myself on the couch. Mike returned his revolver back to his holster and plopped into his recliner.

I took hold of a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray on the coffee table, and placed them in front of me. I took one smoke out and then took out a gold lighter from my pocket and lit it. I never really liked doing this but it was this or go after the bottle of Jack Daniels I knew he had in the cupboard.

I was completely knackered right now; my nerves were frayed. Of course it wasn't from the fight; if that whole incident had gone down with one exception I would be walking away with a spring in my step and a massive stiff one. That was if Mike hadn't been part of it; that was if I didn't just learn what I did about him. To his credit Mikey looked even worse right now. I tried to feel some sympathy for him.

I took a drag and slid the pack across the table. He just looked at it; it was like he was a statue with moving eyes.

"Now perhaps I do owe you a hundred explanations, though your story seems a bit more pressing here," I said at last. "You first, darling. Tell me about you and the vampires; tell me how awful immortals can be in your infinite wisdom."

Michael rubbed his face, then leaned his head against the backrest. He gave a few hard breaths; I just puffed my cigarette casually and waited for him to finally open his bloody mouth.

"Christ where do I begin?" he sighed. "I'm going to assume you know a thing or two about vampires," he started.

I nodded in response.

"And obviously you do too," I replied.

He looked at me and then shakily nodded. Mike paused and took a few deep breaths, it sounded like he was figuring out just where to start.

"You walk the beat you learn about the not so pleasant side of the world," Mike answered. "And then you become one of the rare few who learn there's worse monsters than rapists and murderers. You walk past a patio and swear you see a couple snogging, until you see the flash of white fangs sinking into her neck and his tongue slurping up all the red. You pass right by thinking you just imagined it, that's what happens when you've just passed the twelve-hour mark. Then you find a homeless man with his throat ripped out. As soon as you accompany him to the morgue you get pulled aside and told to forget what you saw; he drank himself to death, that's the official story."

I grimaced and nodded. I kept my cool but I felt my stomach sink for a thousand reasons I couldn't bear to admit to myself.

"So yeah I know all about vampires, I've obviously gotten more used to them as the years have gone by. I've had a good inkling there's more things out there, but I really never wanted to know the rest."

"So just how did you end up playing fetch for Ferdy?" I asked with a sigh.

Mike looked down at the rug. The look on his face made me wonder if he was asking himself the same question.

"Just know whatever the hell I've been doing hasn't been to get blooded, hasn't been for power, hasn't been to get turned, none of that," he answered. "It's all been for money. No, I'm not squeaky clean; yes I'm in a few nasty pockets."

I just shrugged. I didn't give a toss if he was that white knight or if he was completely for sale. It was his business, not mine; unfortunately now it was my business.

"Like Ferdy's," I prompted.

"He's my other boss," Mike replied. "He tosses money at me and I do what he asks. Evidence points to his clutch, I shred it. He wants classified information, I give it to him. I am his plant, or I am his lapdog. I do favors for him, he pays me generously. I needed the money; you know I needed the money. I got desperate and I fell right into his hands. But I don't kill anyone for him, I just deal in information."

"Find a priest if you want absolution, Mikey," I replied, taking a drag and exhaling. "Stay on the bloody point, thank you. Now how long have you been heeling for him?"

He rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

"About three years," he replied. "It started small. I was at this community fundraising ball or some bollocks like that. I was introduced to this genteel, well-dressed businessman. Then he asks me for a private meeting, wants to talk about some ongoing case. I get pulled into a side room. That's when I saw bared fangs: his and five guys in the room.

"Apparently one of their guys was on our suspect list for something. I don't even remember what. Alls I remember is the polite request to forget he exists followed by the whole 'It's in your best interests to keep silent' speech and so forth and so forth. I kept my gob shut, I wanted to scrub the thought from my mind. A few weeks later I get a wad of cash in an envelope. I held it, it was dirty money but I kept it. I heard from that man…Ferdinand. I heard from him occasionally but nothing having to do with his men. But he put the offer out there in case I needed some pocket change."

I flicked an ash into the ashtray with a grimace.

"So you've been involved in this whole rubbish since we've been together," I said.

Mike nodded with a pained expression.

"This is the only time I've run into them aside from appointed times," he replied. "Ferdinand promised me I'd get left alone after hours. He promised me no one in my life would be touched."

"Well he might have but all those twats had other ideas," I retorted. "So who was your friend in that alleyway? You knew his name."

Mike leaned forward and winced a little. I do hope this was all weighing on him quite nicely.

"Danny's one of Ferdinand's errandboys, or he was. He mainly worked for Ferd's lieutenant, Stuart Stanton," he replied, then he got a look in his eye that said he made some connections. "Y'know I'm pretty bloody sure that was who he talked to on the phone, well him and you."

"I recall hearing the name 'Stu' mentioned," I answered.

Mike shook his head.

"Dammit he's behind this isn't he?" he sighed. "Bloody brilliant."

"Stu and Ferdy not getting on too well?"

"They're the picture of cooperation to everyone else, but then again every one of that lot is. Better to insert the knife in the back than the front."

"The games creatures play," I said with a shrug. "And of course games need pawns who are easily bought off, disposable, and tasty."

"Of course you're not one of those creatures," he sneered with a little smile.

"No I am not," I simply replied. "Reapers don't play such petty games. We have one rather straightforward purpose: the souls of humans. We collect them when it's time, judge them, bring them into the afterlife, protect them from other nasty things wandering around."

"Yeah, because giving me a whole load of fake stories to get my trousers off or the key to my flat isn't playing bloody games," he hissed. "My partner's an inhuman creature playing house with me. Did you have that fucking chainsaw around the entire time we've been together? Do you just torture vampires or do you cut up other people too? Ya know; I don't even want to know! I just know that little laugh you gave as Danny was screaming."

I took a last drag and snuffed the fag out in the ashtray. I contemplated in silence for a second what would be the best thing to say next. Things right now were completely ballsed anyway; the truth would be the best currency.

"Perhaps there's a bit more to me than that cuddly queer boy you know me as, but then there's more to you too and you're mortal," I replied, reclining against the back cushion. "There's consequences for when mortals and immortals get too cozy. Yet we can't seem to avoid each other, can we?"

My own words struck a bit of a nerve in me, memories of at least one other mortal I crossed that line with; a line she willingly crossed with me. Mike's features softened a bit. I believe I struck a nerve with him too.

"However, as I believe I said before, mine isn't the kind that's going to track you down and eat you when the political tides turn," I continued.

Once upon a time that wasn't my case, but that was a long time ago. I learned too many lessons.

Mike nodded.

"Alls you care about is the souls of the dead," he said.

"That's correct," I replied evenly. "As I said. Pretty bloody straightforward, no funny business."

Well at least on paper that is. Bloody hell I was one to talk, but then I had been a good little boy for a long time.

"And I suppose vampires, violating those rules of death and all that, are not your favorite creatures," Mike said.

"Spot on," I replied.

He stared at the wall and rubbed his head, I could smell the gears turning.

"And of course you're not human so you're going to get a bit more aggressive with things you don't like," he continued.

"And how many of your friends have tortured people, killed children, hunted down your colleagues possibly on your information? And you can't abide being around monsters?"

Michael swallowed hard, laying back in his chair.

"What I've done is horrible, and no I don't know how much I'll ever be able to live with myself for that but that's a matter I keep on putting off," he answered. "I suppose that whole throwing rocks and glass houses thing applies here."

"Good answer," I sighed.

He nodded, then looked to his shoes.

"And just why the hell does a grim reaper give a shit about an ordinary human?" he asked, his voice raising a bit. "Aren't I just another meat bag to you?"

It was a question that needed to be asked. I tried to come up with a few witty answers but my mind froze. I believe the question stuck me a little harder than I thought. That was the big question wasn't it? Why the hell did I get as involved as I have?

"You're not another meat bag to me, Michael," I blurted out, noticing my tone was a bit sad. I looked him in the eyes. "Our aesthetic is remaining emotionless, unfeeling. But that's the ideal. We feel things too, we develop attachments, we can love."

His expression softened a little.

"And do you love me?" he asked.

I really didn't know how to answer that one either. Perhaps if he asked me that a few weeks ago it may have been a different story, or maybe not. My head was cursing him out in a thousand ways, my heart was aching, but perhaps there was some better ground.

"I do," I replied.

He gave a weak smile, which I returned. It felt good to smile if but a little. I don't know if he was buying anything I was saying, but we were beyond that. He sighed hard, then he looked at me.

"And I love you too," he replied.

I reached over the coffee table and rubbed his knee, he put his hand on mine. It felt good, though there was still tension in both our muscles. It was a nice moment, but that's all it was.

"I guess we both got a little more than we bargained for," he said.

"Essentially," I answered.

He just smiled and squeezed my hand, though he said nothing. All we had was silence for a moment; a silence that didn't exactly please me.

I recalled that one time I asked him if he would accept me as a woman. He said yes then, though now he was being asked to accept me as an immortal. Would he be so reassuring? I was tempted to ask, but I just wasn't in the mood. The next question would be if I could accept him as a vampire's pet. Honestly I didn't have as ready an answer as I wanted to.

"How's that little love tap I gave you earlier?" he asked.

I giggled, then unbuttoned my bloody shirt and opened the panel over the left side of my chest. Mike looked, then his mouth dropped open. I looked down myself and saw my flesh wholly intact, only a pale red mark was left.

"Bloody hell," he snickered.

"That little toy of yours did hurt a bit more than the mundane sort, but I'm a big boy," I replied.

"Well I'm sorry for that," he said. "You shouldn't have surprised me though."

"Guilty as charged," I replied.

He looked at me, then to the wall and rubbed his head.

"Jesus Christ, it took me so long to wrap my head around the bloodsuckers now I'm balls deep in another species," he groaned

I cackled madly, he cracked a smile and groaned. We both enjoyed a little chuckle, probably the first time we had done so sincerely for what seemed like an eternity.

"Well you've only scratched the surface," I said with a few lingering giggles. "You have no idea how many other monsters with their own predilections and their own rules or lack thereof are crawling around out there. My kind usually doesn't get along too well with others, though I personally tend to be a bit more open minded."

"Unless it comes to vampires who fuck around with you."

"Pretty much."

Mike smirked for a moment, then his features suddenly turned serious. I had an odd feeling what connection he just made.

"So you know when people are going to buy it."

I just nodded.

"Was tonight, I mean out there…"

"Are you asking me if you were due to die tonight and did I swoop in like a hero and save you from your impending doom?"

He just stared at me, but then I saw a little nod. I shook my head.

"Tampering with that sequence can result in very harsh consequences for the reaper involved," I replied evenly. "So no, dearest, I did not save your life tonight. I did not violate my ordinances; your time wasn't up out there, plain and simple."

Michael nodded tiredly, then he closed his eyes. I knew another question was coming to me.

"Am I in the clear for the rest of the night," he asked.

I made a zipping motion to my lips, he nodded in understanding.

"I could still get ripped apart tonight, only you can't say a word to me," he answered.

"Sorry, love, I could get in deep for flapping my lips," I said. "Vampires are like a gun or a heart attack or a careening taxi; they're cause and effect."

He went silent for a moment and looked at me thoughtfully.

"You know I remember the first time I ever met you I asked you who was the monarch when you were born; Lizzie or George," he said. "I was half soused at the time, I guess it was a cute way of filtering out all the kids from the adults. Then you told me George and I figured you were a child of the war. It's obviously not like that."

"No, it's not," I said, managing a little snicker. "But my answer was still correct."

He looked right at me and smiled.

"So which George was it?" he asked.

I stared at him and smirked. I really should have kept my mouth shut but I figured I'd share a little extra tidbit. This probably would be my last one. I raised two fingers, palm out. He cackled though I heard an abundance of tension in that voice. I just held my smirk.

The mirth was suddenly broken with the chime of the doorbell. Mike's face blanched, his features taking a look of absolute horror. I leaned against the armrest of the couch and tapped my finger against my cheek. The chime went off again; Mike closed his eyes and mouthed an obscenity.

"Now, now, Michael, don't keep your guest waiting," I said.

Mike shot me a tired glare; I just looked at him. His gaze softened and he slowly rose from his sitting position. He then gave me this pleading look, my expression did not change; I motioned with my hand for him to get on with it. He looked at me another second though his expression indicated he got my meaning loud and clear.

"After all, I could still get ripped up tonight," he said. "Or I go on with my merry life. Only you know the answer."

"Ding-ding-ding, give the man a prize," I answered.

He nodded with this look of understanding. The door chime went off again.

"If I don't make it back up here, just know I love you and it has been amazing being with you," he said. "Even if I got something a bit different than I bargained for."

"I appreciate that, Michael," I replied. "And I do feel the same."

He nodded, then gave me one last lingering look before walking through the hallway. I could hear his footsteps down the stairs; steps he thought would be his death march. I leaned my head against the back cushion.

Thankfully our hearing is infinitely better than our vision; I heard the door open then Mike emitted a long sigh. Then I heard the smooth voice of a cultured Spanish gentleman. Now it was my time to cringe and swear.

"Oh am I happy to see you, sir," I heard Michael say, lapping the crotch of his master like a good boy.

"Are you all right, Michael," the honored guest asked.

I assumed Mikey nodded, I did hear him give a profound sigh.

"May I enter your home?" the great one asked.

I rolled my eyes. This is a formality of course, a gesture of politeness. Vampires need no permission to enter, that's an old wives tale. If they want to fuck you up they won't be looking for an invitation.

"Of course, please come in," Michael replied merrily.

I heard footsteps and the door closing. Now I was the one sweating a little.


End file.
